The Nesting Pony
by PhoenixEternity
Summary: Bad summary (:P): An MLP OC fanfic. This takes place during season 4, and is not meant to alter any major characters. This is a story of a pony who is and wants to be entirely nondescript. Phoenix Flair, a timid soul, is resigned to a life on the fringes of Ponyville society, and it takes the magic of friendship to break her out of her shell and help her to follow her dreams.


The Nesting Pony

An MLP Fanfic

Featuring Phoenix Flair the OC

The Pegasus's hooves made hardly a sound on the town's dirt road, the soft crunching sounds of gravel absorbed almost entirely by the storm clouds brewing overhead. The grey skies closely mirrored the coarse color of Phoenix Flair's coat and mane, so that even on the ground she seemed to blend with her surroundings, though perhaps not quite as perfectly as she would prefer. The sparse orange streaks in her mane and tail brightened her otherwise dull form, standing out like ribbons of fire.

Out in the open. Flair hated being so exposed. Even if there was nopony around, if they'd all taken shelter from the impending downpour, she couldn't shake the feeling that some pony was watching, judging, criticizing. Ridiculous, she knew, and yet Flair always felt that stifling anxiety. Always, except for those few, sweet hours of solitude, in her refuge, in her escape.

She was heading there now, hurrying ahead of the rain before it could wreck her precious-

"Flair!"

Flair gasped, startled, and turned to the voice's source, instinctively reaching round and settling her worn, old saddlebag farther back on her flank, perfectly concealing her cutie mark.

"Flair, it's lucky I caught you." Cloven Hoof cantered up to Flair, his blonde mane characteristically out of place, sticking up in a thousand places as if he'd been caught up in a hurricane. A very dusty hurricane. Flair relaxed somewhat. At least it was somepony she knew, somepony she was somewhat comfortable with. "Oh, I don't know what I'd do if I hadn't," he went on, tired eyes shining bright with dozy triumph. "Oh, I'd be in a bind then. Oh, could you imagine the mess we'd be in?" He threw his head back and laughed quietly, leaving Flair standing awkwardly before him.

"What mess, Cloven?" she asked patiently.

"Oh, right," Cloven said, grinning. "That." Flair's employer looked worn to the bone. Dark rings sat under his green eyes, and his brown coat still had wood shavings stuck to it. He'd probably only just left his workshop.

"It's nothing too troublesome. It's just that I've run out of the gold leaf. I've already contacted our Manehatten suppliers, and they won't have any in for another month." He fell silent, nodding as if he'd explained it perfectly.

Flair shifted awkwardly, pawing in the dry dust and casting a wary eye to the clouds. It would certainly rain soon. She had to hurry back to protect her home. "So, what is it you want me to do?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he said hurriedly. "Ochre said there's another store that might have some left in stock, but it's in Cloudsdale."

"So you want me to pick some up?" Flair couldn't get to the point fast enough. If she couldn't get away before the drops started falling, it would certainly be too late to save the-

Cloven nodded emphatically, and several flecks of sawdust fell from his tangled mane. "You got it. I'm not sure where it is exactly, but the place is called Couture Crafting. I'll reimburse you as soon as you get back, so don't worry about the cost."

Cloudsdale? Flair didn't have the time to go there. "Well, I don't know. I mean, with the storm on its way it might be dangerous. I was actually just going to sleep in Ponyville for the night. I don't know if I-"

"Oh don't worry about the storm," Cloven said, waving one hoof dismissively in the air. "I'm done working for the night, so if you really think it's a hazard, you don't have to go until tomorrow morning."

"Oh." That was certainly a relief. "Of course, then. I'll go first thing."

"Thank you." He turned to go, and then added over his shoulder, "And don't forget, I'll need your help with that… thing at Clever Hoof's school. Make sure you're at the workshop by nine o'clock, and then we'll go over together."

"Yes, see you then."

"Oh, and Flair?"

Flair ground her molars in frustration. At this rate of going, all her work would be ruined. Still, she turned round again, and caught Cloven watching her, an odd look in his eye.

"It's just that, if you're not going back to Cloudsdale for the night, I was just wondering…" Cloven looked down at the ground, pushing a small pile of dust from side to side as he worked up the nerve to say… something. Flair couldn't imagine what would give the normally blunt, if forgetful, pony such trouble. "Have you got a place to stay? Because I've got the old guest room you could-"

"No, it's fine," Flair interrupted quickly. "I'll be staying with a friend, it's all worked out."

"Oh, well, if you're sure-" Flair knew what he was getting at, and she couldn't let him finish.

"I am. Thank you for the offer though."

Cloven nodded, and without another word trotted off, heading for his home at the edge of town. Flair knew what he was thinking. A friend? Phoenix Flair doesn't have friends. Not in Ponyville, anyway. Well, best to leave him guessing. After sparing a second to calm her racing heart, Flair turned around and unfurled her wings, lifting off and speeding in the opposite direction, to the shady shelter of the Everfree Forest. Home.

Well, not quite. Flair had a more permanent, more established place of residence, up in Cloudsdale with the rest of the Pegasi, but she was hardly ever there in the warmer seasons. Flair preferred to stay near the ground, where her work was, and where the wild things crawled and slithered and padded over the forest floor. It made her feel alive, much more than the harsh and drafty cloud city, or Ponyville with its bustling, homely charm. Too much pressure, with all those other ponies living and laughing side by side. Just the thought of it made Flair feel nervous, and sick to her stomach.

Flair swooped through the trees, her flank brushed every now and again by low hanging branches, leaving little tracks of tree sap that clung to her iron-colored coat like moss on a rock. For the most part, though, Flair left no impact on the environment. She knew the layout of this place by heart, especially the path to her home. Through the hemlock grove, left around the reflecting pool, past the timber wolves' winter den and then at last, the redwood stand.

Flair gripped her saddlebags hard in her teeth as she levelled, flying vertically upwards to the thick canopy of the tallest tree. She broke through, all of the sudden, into the spreading leaves, and settled gently on a broad branch, walking along with perfect balance, until in the wide fork of the branch, she came to her nest.

This was Flair's true home. Her refuge from all the pressure of everyday life, from all the other ponies whose very glance put such a quivering terror into her heart. Here, alone, she felt so free, so relaxed. At peace, she supposed, was the best way to describe it. And now she had to work to save this place, before the rain wrecked what she'd built.

Flair hung her saddlebags over the branch, and drew out the waterproof cloth she'd bought in Ponyville. As the wind picked up overhead, and the moisture in the clouds grew heavier and heavier, stifling the spring evening, she spread the cloth over her nest, tying it tight to every twig and branch with enough space. Finally, with the covering taught over her home, Flair settled in her nest, folding her weary wings and nestling into the pile of blankets and soft clean hay. Let the rain try and get at her now! Then again, perhaps it was better not to tempt fate with such brazen thoughts. If the weather hadn't wrecked her old roof, she never would have had to buy this fresh one in the first place.

"Oh could you just imagine the mess it made?" Flair said quietly to herself, remembering Cloven's words earlier. She chuckled, as she nosed around in her nest for paper and pen.

Flair's nest was full of writing scraps, folded papers, notebooks and inkwells slipped into the thick walls at regular intervals, pens and pencils sticking out like porcupine quills. These faded words and worn papers, swathed with jet black words, seamless sentences, and perfectly preserved, these were her life's work, her pride and joy. They were the real reason Flair took such great pains to keep her home dry. Even if the stories and songs and poems were for her eyes only, each one, carefully folded and lovingly tucked away, meant the world to her. What would she ever do, without this sanctuary, without her busy solitude?

The raindrops began to fall, one after another at first, and then picking up speed, until it sounded like a constant tumbling cascade of pebbles on the thin roof. Flair shut out the noise, ignoring the torrent entirely as she took a fresh pencil in her mouth, spreading a blank paper over the covers with her hooves. How exciting it was, this clean white sheet. So many possibilities, limitless as the stories and characters rushing through her mind. Now, where to begin?

Flair wrote until well into the night, safe and warm in her nest, as the world around her was soaked through. The birds and squirrels and other forest creatures scurried for the safety of the trees and bushes, but Flair hardly noticed, even when a brace of cardinals roosted on the edge of her nest, sheltering from the storm. She was too engrossed in the story to pay them any mind.

"And at the birthday party," she would mutter, around the pen gripped tight in her teeth, "what happens? What if the mysterious mare…." She didn't stop until her neck was stiff and the fourth page covered in her scrawling hoofwriting. By then the moon hung high in the sky, casting scattered light though the leaves, and the rain had quieted to a dull drip. Finally Flair folded her work, tucked it deep into the wall of her nest, and dragged a blanket over herself. She curled her hooves under her small form and laid down her weary head, waiting impatiently for sleep. Tomorrow she would fly to Cloudsdale, and she would go and work with Cloven, pretend she was happy with her position, with the way her life had turned. Just the thought made her tired and anxious, made her heart flutter like a flighty butterfly. For now, though, sleep and dreams, stories without worlds and without limits. Flair drifted into a world without fear.


End file.
